


this is the road to ruin

by PoemIsDead



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Begging, Cum Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Drugged Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Heavy Exhibitionism, Kinda, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Sacrifice!Jack, Teasing, Virginity, god!Dark - Freeform, religion au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-07-28 13:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemIsDead/pseuds/PoemIsDead
Summary: In a city who thrives under their Dark God, a single soul must be gifted as sacrifice to appease the great deity. And he has made his choice.





	1. my heart is like a stallion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [therentistoodamnhigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therentistoodamnhigh/gifts).



> You can ~~thank~~ blame Silver ([therentistoodamnhigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therentistoodamnhigh/pseuds/therentistoodamnhigh)) for this all-consuming idea, and [GalaxyGhosty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty), [CookieDancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDancer/pseuds/CookieDancer), [Mad_Madame_Mim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Madame_Mim/pseuds/Mad_Madame_Mim), and the rest of the fuckers in my server for spurring this on. I've gotten like no sleep, but it's here, and it's . . . something.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy this descent into kinks and smut with me.

Jack swallowed, shifting carefully on the plush cushions as he attempted once again to find a comfortable place on his luxurious perch. Each movement sent a melody of sound ringing through the air, the rush of soft fabric and the tinkle of precious metal links tapping together. Jewels and gems brushing against each other to make an unfamiliar refrain in the sweet-smelling air, and incense and scented smokes filled the large room, a thick, hanging cloud that made it seem so much smaller.

He was sitting on an altar, dressed in the finest raiments the city could afford, adorned in gifts from high noblemen and tradesmen, and doused in sweet oils, cleaner than he'd ever been in his life, as he waited to be offered to a god like a slab of meat to a dog.

The Dark God had looked over the City of Casus for as long as anyone could remember, offering protection and boons to faithful servants, and asking only for the occasional sacrifice in return. They weren't common, often only required in times of great struggle or when some sleight had been wrought on him by some unwitting or arrogant soul. More commonly, he took his offerings in the form of vanquished enemies, feeding off the strength Casus had built around their deity that led them to thwart event the mightiest of enemies, spreading like a plague, only to sell their subjugated adversaries their freedom, or sell them like chattel to others that lusted after land or wealth.

Casus had grown fat on their callous methods over the decades, a beacon of wealth and safety built around black deeds. Their god was not a benevolent god, but he provided nonetheless. And he expected to be paid for his work.

No one had expected a sacrifice to be called for this year, though. The city was prosperous, the war with some far rich merchant town fruitful, and should have been more than satisfactory for the deity to sate himself. Many had assumed it might be years before another sacrifice was called for, and the call from the priests had been unexpected, to say the least.

The Dark God always chose his own sacrifice, sending his priests to find his desired soul with visions and knowledge that would put the chosen person in his grasp within a fortnight. Though it had hardly taken that long to find Jack, sitting at his family's table, playing a silly game with his oldest brother's young daughter. He'd been bewildered when the priests had come in, the line of guards following them with their massive spikes and sabers hung about their waist, as the god's spokesman had offered him praise and honors for being chosen by their deity.

And Jack had followed as they ushered him out, confused and lost, and wishing he'd chosen something besides his torn old sleep tunic to relax in on the lazy Sunday morning.

As it turned out, what he wore was unimportant. They'd taken him to a litter in the streets, adorned with heavy drapes that hid him from onlookers, and tucked him inside before he'd even processed what was happening. It wasn't until they'd reached the massive monument to their Dark God, the temple who's heavy black walls stretched high into the sky, above even where the wealthiest merchants dared to build, that he'd started to come to terms with what had happened.

He'd been chosen as a sacrifice.

Which meant . . . he was never going home.

He'd felt numb as the priests pulled him inside, stripping him without preamble, and scrubbing him down like they meant to take his first layer of skin, and leave only pure, untouched flesh to offer their deity.

He could have told them that wasn't necessary to find purity on him, if he weren't so lost.

They'd bathed him, cleaned him, soaked him in some thick-scented oils and bathed him again, scrubbing mercilessly at raw skin until he wanted to beg them to stop, and then dunked him in some milky bath that felt like pure bliss on his abused flesh.

They'd let him soak in that for what felt like hours as a young woman sat behind him, working through his hair with scented oils to slacken knots and tangles, only to be brushed into pristine, smooth locks with fine-tooth combs of fine ivory. Other maids worked to polish and clean his hands and fingernails, working some lotion into his palms that left him softer than the smoothest silks.

A smarter man would have basked in the attention, the last pleasures given to a sacrifice before they were given to the god for whatever their deity so desired of them. But Jack was hardly aware of any of it, his thoughts distant and slow as he struggled to keep up with what had happened, as he struggled to accept that he was really never leaving this place. He would live here the rest of his life.

If he lived at all.

There was no guarantee on what a god might do with their sacrifices. Some required souls, others blood. Some wanted servants that served their every whim while still others desired more carnal rewards, tastes of mortal flesh in whatever way that pleased them.

The only thing that was certain was that there was no returning to your life after you were chosen.

Jack got his first indication of what he might be in for when a pair of young priests had come in with a shaving kit and started removing every bit of hair from him below his neck. He'd shivered at the touch of the cool blade against his chest, down his legs, and his pulse had hammered in his throat as the deadly edge had been moved to more delicate areas, taking every bit of protection and modesty from him until he was laid bare in the slick water.

He hadn't expected the kind of cleaning they did next, the alien sensation of warm fingers pressing inside him, and his own fingers had bitten sharply into the priest's arm as he worked, fighting back confused whimpers as he was coated in yet more oil. He wasn't naive to the intricacies of sex, but this was territory as foreign to him as the merchant kingdoms they conquered.

When they were done with him in the bath, leaving him coated in lotions and doused in fine-smelling powders, he was given to another pair of to be dressed, if one could call it that. There were no protective qualities to the garb they wrapped him in, no modesty or logic. Only an attempt to reach some aesthetic that might be pleasing to the god, draping silks and fine linens over his frame in ways that accentuated pale skin, the curve of his hipbones, the strength in his arms. Jewelry was chosen with similar thoughts in mind, to match his rich hair and bright blue eyes, and to mark him as some extravagant gift to their generous god.

And then, when they were done with him, they led him to the great central hall, ornately carved black walls around a beautifully arching room, and a short set of steps leading to the massive altar.

It was covered in pillows and cushions, soft blankets and silk sheets. A bedding fit for any king or rich noble. And Jack couldn't find an ounce of comfort in its rich hold.

They'd been sitting for what felt like hours now, the altar circled on one side by devouts on their knees, waiting, patient as ever, for the being they had devoted their lives to. And Jack waited with nothing but numbness for the creature that would take his away.

What would he look like, when he arrived? He was said to have a myriad of forms - a great black wolf, a massive raptor who's wings blacked out the sun, a nameless shadow that consumed everything in its path - but to most people he appeared as a man, tall and dark, a monolith amongst his kneeling subjects that rained destruction like a mortal might take a breath.

What would a creature like that ask of him? How would he be expected to act when the god stepped before him, laid out on his altar like some plucked feast for whatever pleased him? Jack had never been a particularly devout man, offering his token praise before meals like any other in the city, visiting the temple once a year with the rest of his family to offer his thanks, but never more than what was expected of him. The god factored so little into his life, he'd hardly put much thought to him besides in passing, and now he was wishing he'd paid more attention during festivals.

A sound passed through the massive hall, something he didn't quite have a name for, that reverberated through the black stone around him and shook from his chest to his fingertips. It felt like he'd stood next to one of the massive ceremonial drums as it was struck, the vibrations shaking through his core, but the sound was wrong, too soft to match the power of the sound, and all at once Jack understood he was about to face a god.

A coldness followed the rumble of sound, quick and sharp, a snap of biting wind before warmth followed, and Jack watched dry mouthed as a drop of blackness seemed to pour down from the air above the center of the deis. It wasn't quite smoke, or water, some in-between liquid that sucked the color out of the room as it bled through the air, cracking and swirling out like ink in water. And from that slowly building pool came long black fingers, curling around the edges of the darkness and pulling it apart like one might pull apart drapes over a window.

Depictions didn't do him justice. No artist or poet had quite captured the _alienness_ that was the being that stepped out of the cloying blackness, towering on his deis as the ink that coated his skin was pulled back into the receding pool behind him. It clung to him, like it was desperate to take him with it, but there was an ironness to this being that made Jack certain that _nothing_ would be able to move him if he did not wish to be moved.

He was cold. Dark. A monolith of strength that put even the onyx walls to shame. His form was that of a man, but no man had eyes so black and bottomless, no man had skin like some gray marble, no man warped the very air around him with his mere presence. There was nowhere one could look at this being and see him for anything other than what he was.

A god.

A murmur went through the kneeling devout around him, some soft acknowledgment of their deity before them as the being stepped forward slowly, feet soundless on the polished floor. His black eyes were fixed on Jack, mouth curved up in the ghost of some alien smile as he looked him over, like a man might appraise a horse for sale, and Jack shivered under that gaze, struggling to breathe.

Just this morning he'd been playing silly games with his niece, and considering joining some friends at one of the small festival celebrations that night, but mostly thinking about taking a midafternoon snooze in the courtyard. And now . . .

Now he was perched on what amounted to a silver platter, offered to a _god_.

He felt naked. For all he was dressed in, he might as well have been. Raw and exposed, covered in expensive scent and texture and gleam, all of it meant to show the city's love for their reigning deity, and not a bit of it to protect him from the creature approaching with all the patience of a predator that knew its prey couldn't escape.

Jack's fingers bit sharply into the cushions around him, heart that had felt strangely numb - lost - up until now suddenly hammering his chest, too loud in his ears to hear anything other than the staccato rhythm of his fear. The god didn't say anything, the room silent around him, his skin feeling cold and bare as shivered on his pile of fine beddings. He wanted to move, to shift and readjust and fidget the way he'd been doing as he waited, to move the swath of cloth that was draped haphazardly over his hip and cover more of his flesh from eyes that felt like they were already laying him bare. But he couldn't move, some deep instinct holding him utterly motionless, even his breath still in his chest as the deity came to stand before the altar.

He still didn't speak, black eyes staring down at Jack with a silent appraisal, and there was some other long-buried instinct rising in his throat that was pleading with him to flee. To throw himself from the altar and run like his life depended on it. This thing, this other-worldly creature, beautiful and terrible and looking at him with something he had no name for, could kill him without a drop of effort. Of that, he was absolutely sure. If he wanted to, he could take his life, his soul, his . . . whatever he wanted, he could take it. He should be terrified, he should be running, he should be protecting himself.

But there was still that numbness that stilled his limbs, that strange calm that had encapsulated him since the priests had plucked him from his home, and when the Dark God reached out with sharp gray fingers, Jack didn't flinch away.

His touch was softer than he'd expected. His skin looked so much like some stone, like he'd been carved from a slab of marble, that'd he'd expected touching him to be the same. But he was met with rough skin that gave under pressure, his chin indenting the finger pads as the deity forced his face up to look at him.

Jack swallowed slowly, his eyes meeting those endless black pits and not looking away. An expression passed over the being's face, something curious and amused, as he tilted his head to the side, considering him carefully. For a long moment, he simply seemed to look, eyes flickering across his face in the soft silence of the room, occasionally tilting his head in a new direction to get a fresh look at him, and Jack found it was easier to relax the longer he stared in those deep eyes. Like they pulled him in, some black void that stole his fear and his anxiety, and his breath as well.

He wasn't sure how long the Dark God looked at him like that. He found he was unconcerned with each new minute passing, losing himself instead in tracing the lines of the deity's face, gauging the warmth of his hand, memorizing the way his hair fell softly over his black eyes. The brush of his fingers at his throat was almost a surprise, pulse jumping softly under his touch, and when the hand at his chin moved to cup his jaw instead, Jack barely thought about it before he pressed his face against it, craving the touch in a way he hadn't expected.

The smile that earned him from the god, eyes darkening as he looked at him with a very human pleasure, sent Jack's gut into a strange, tumbling excitement, like electricity pooling softly behind his navel, and his lips parted as he took a sharp breath.

And then the god's lips were parting in turn, and a voice like the roll of distant thunder poured from them, low and powerful and commanding attention, even at the gentle cadence he chose to address him with, and that electricity sparked sharp enough to make his stomach clench.

"Your name." It wasn't a question so much as a prompt. A cue for him to speak, and it took several tries for Jack to manage to unstick his tongue from his throat to respond.

"Jack," he managed in a soft whisper, almost too quiet, though he knew the god heard. That smile pulled a little higher again, indulging him as his thumb brushed over his cheek, arcing down to slip over the corner of his lips, and Jack opened his mouth without thought.

" _Jack_ ," the being repeated, and Jack closed his eyes as he shivered at the sound, at the way his voice seemed to caress his name in a way no mortal could replicate. "You may call me Dark."

"Dark," Jack repeated dutifully, and he wished his voice could match the reverence his mouth wanted to carve the name with. He'd never been a devout man before. He'd never cared for gods or worship. But now, faced with this beautiful, terrible thing, he was ready to fall to his knees like the most pious of priests.

Dark's hand pulled away from where it had been brushing softly over his neck, leaving only the warm palm cupping his jaw as he reached out an open palm towards the nearest kneeling onlooker.

The man was on his knees at Dark's feet in the blink of an eye, graceful and quick as he looked resolutely at the ground, offering a wide, shallow bowl, smooth black stone filled with some misty, milky liquid Jack didn't recognize. Dark took it without looking at the man, and the devout was gone the moment it was out of his hands, sliding back into his place in the crowd without a word.

There was a sound behind him, some breath, or maybe a few, a sound of relief, and Jack wondered if they had passed some trial he'd been unaware of. Did the Dark God often reject offered sacrifices? Or was it that whatever was in that bowl was better than what other options might have been available?

Dark brought the bowl up to the mortal's lips, pressing it there gently as his other hand put some light pressure to his jaw, urging his head back.

"Drink," he commanded softly, and Jack only hesitated a moment, wondering if this was some liquid death he was about to swallow down, before he parted his lips and let the sweet liquid trickle down his dry throat.

There was a bitterness under many layers of sweet, some lingering taste that set him on edge and put a burn in his throat, like alcohol, and he had to pause before the last swallow, eyes watering slightly as Dark patiently guiding the concoction past his lips.

When he'd swallowed down every last drop, Dark took the bowl away, offering it to another kneeling devout without looking away from his sacrifice's face.

And then, when his hand was free once more, he let it trail softly over the line of his throat, down to his shoulder, brushing softly over his clavicle. It was like he was mapping him out. Examining him, slowly, _thoroughly_ , releasing his jaw so that his other hand could do the same. Warm fingers glided over fine jewelry draped over the lines of his body, shifting fabric so that he might learn each new patch of skin with a steady, patient study. He seemed in no hurry, hands coming down to slide over the lean muscle in his arms, down to fine, dextrous fingers, pressing against the texture of bone through the delicate skin of the back of his hand, before turning instead to the shape of his ribs down his sides.

He was patient. And thorough. And utterly silent as he examined him like one might examine a pristine statue, gentle, sliding hands mapping out his body under a fine tapestry of expensive cloth and glittering jewels.

And Jack was lost in it, watching Dark's endless eyes hazily as he took slow, heady breaths of the thick scents he was clouded in. The touches felt like they were building little trails of fire over his skin, a new layer of sensation each time they passed over him, and Jack was struggling to think straight as his mind seemed to cloud slowly with a fog that made him want to fall back into the sea of cushions under him.

It wasn't until Dark pressed his fingers into the dip of his hips that Jack recognized the pleasure pooling in his gut for what it was. His face felt hot, burning with a shame and desire both as he realized how his body was responding to the deity's study of him, and he was suddenly painfully aware of the multitude of people in the room, and how the artistically draped fabrics were doing little to hide the rising shaft between his legs.

He whimpered when Dark moved his hands slowly down his hips, tracing over the sharp tendon connecting his thighs to his groin, so teasingly close to the heated flesh he had to be all too aware of now. But if he saw it, he ignored it, moving instead to the muscle of his thighs, forcing one leg up to rest his heel against the altar so the deity could run his hands down the length of it.

Jack's fingers bit sharply into the plush cushions as he tried to stay still. He wanted to wiggle, to writhe and grind, to find some friction, or some way to hide from the unerring gaze of the god above him, but there was some instinct inside him that bid him still, that let Dark examine him so carefully, that relished the feeling of warm hands moving him like he was some piece of artwork to be appreciated. Each touch had his heart beating faster, his breath picking up, until it was all he could do not to openly whine as the being leaned down to brush his lips over the inside of his knee.

He had to look away then, cheeks burning as he tried to catch his breath and think through the thick fog settling over his mind. The room seemed too soft to him just then, distant sharp walls looking as welcoming as the cushions he sat on, and his vision swam as a warmth and a _need_ bloomed inside of him.

Hazy blue eyes cast about the room, a shaky sound winding out of his throat as he turned and caught the gaze of a woman near the back of the group. She'd lifted her head just barely, dark eyes curious and hungry as she looked up at him, only to dart back down immediately like she'd been caught, and Jack swallowed as he looked around at the rest of the crowd. They could all see him, if they wanted to. They could certainly hear the panting breaths and the little whines slipping past his lips, and that heat in his cheeks burned higher even as the erratic beat of his heart increased its tempo.

"Please."

He hadn't intended to speak, the word slipping past his open lips before he was even aware of it, ragged and soft and needy, and the low sound the god made in response made him want to keen in the too-quiet room.

"Please," he begged again, more aware this time as Dark's hand pressed up the underside of his thigh, tracing rigid, straining muscle as Jack struggled to sit still. "Please, I . . . I . . ."

"What do you need, Jack?" the being asked in his thunder-peal voice, and Jack's eyes rolled back at the sound that seemed to echo through him sinfully, rumbling into that pooling heat in his gut and making the leg in the god's grip tense again as he struggled not to rock his hips. There was an undercurrent of amusement in that voice, but a hunger too, a hunger that had the young man almost panting as he fell back onto his elbows.

"I-" he tried, his throat constricting sharply to cut him off as he felt warm fingers gliding over the silk pooling over his hip and down the inside of his thigh. He let his head fall back, eyes shut as he panted, back arched up as his hips twitched subtly, and he bit his lip as big hands pressed his thighs apart. "I need . . . I . . . can't, my god."

"Your god?" Dark asked, and the amusement was clearer now, Jack sure that if he looked up he'd find the being smiling as his thumbs stroked softly over the sensitive skin just at the juncture of his legs.

"I- yes, yes, my god, I . . . I need . . . I need, _please_."

There was a rumble, a low sound it took him a moment to recognize as laughter, and then the hands were sliding back to rest softly under his knees.

"Show me," the god commanded, his voice low and smooth and unquestionable, and there was no way the being missed the way his shaft jerked under layers of fine silk so close to where his hands had just been. "Show me what your city has given me to pay their debts."

Jack swallowed down the pitiful sound his throat tried to make, his hands fisting in the sheets around him as he listened to the rustle of someone shifting nearby. No matter how tightly he shut his eyes, he couldn't forget the audience around them, the silent onlookers, heads down, but watching nonetheless, as the god asked him to bare himself for him. And there was some dark knowledge blooming in his chest as he realized the thought did more than simply mortify him.

He let himself fall back into the plush bedding under him, fragrance wafting up in his wake and filling his head with a heady scent. The air was filled for a moment with the sound of clinking jewelry, the sensation of the heavy decorative chain slung about his waist dragging over his hip doing funny things to his gut. He could feel strong fingers pressing softly over the delicate skin of his inner knee, waiting, patient and silent, to examine his sacrifice further, and Jack had to swallow again and again and again before he managed to calm his heart enough to move shaking fingers to the cloth draped over his hips.

Silk ran like water through his fingers, slipping gracefully over skin as he pinched at it hesitantly. He'd barely been covered to begin with, just artistically draped cloth that did nothing to hide how his interest had piqued, nor the flush that had worked its way down to his chest, but it was the last defense he had in this open room, with god and devout alike looking on.

"Show me, Jack."

A shiver ran through his body, toes curling and breath hitching as he shut his eyes tighter. He wanted to hide. He wanted to hide, but he also . . . really didn't. He could almost feel the deity's gaze on him, feel the glances their audience stole, like weights on his skin, ghosts of the Dark God's fingers over his stomach, drumming across his ribs, dipping into his hip, and he didn't stop the shaky moan that rattled out of his throat as his back arched oh, so slightly.

He tugged the cloth up slowly, hesitant, but also almost teasing as he bared pale skin bit by bit. The slide of the fabric was pleasant over his thigh, his hip, the ache of his shaft, and the muscles of his legs trembled as he felt the cool kiss of air following the silk. And then Dark's hands were following after it as well, warming the cooling skin and making Jack suck in a needy breath as he finally pulled the cloth up to his stomach.

His shaft had fallen heavy and weeping against the place his happy trail had been mere hours before, dabbing a small wet spot under his navel that he could feel cooling in the open air. He pressed his head back harder into the cushions under him, like he could somehow sink into them and disappear. His teeth dug sharply into his bottom lip as he waited, silk still clutched in his fists and pulse beating rapidly in his ears and dick alike.

The first brush of fingers along the line of his shaft had him bucking up in a very undignified way. His mouth made some kind of noise, soft and broken as his eyes shot open, and he exhaled on a pitiful moan, incapable of words just then. Hazy blue eyes cast around him for something to look at that wasn't the impossible black pits of Dark's eyes, but all he found were stolen glances and bright eyes watching under hoods and cloaks, an upside down world of watchers from where he lay.

He whimpered again as those long fingers trailed all the way up his length, slow and dragging, until they smeared across the dripping trail of precum oozing from his tip, and the slide went slick and delicious, sending shockwaves of pleasure through him that made his toes curl.

"Please," he rasped again, but there was frustration in his voice now, his mind so thick with some foreign fog as his body thrummed with need that he was quickly losing concern for how shameless his display was. "Just- touch . . . harder . . . faster, _god_."

Dark laughed again, the sound darker this time, rumbling through the air as his fingers closed almost tenderly around Jack's cock.

"Strange," he purred in that low, rolling voice. "My things don't usually make demands of me."

Jack shivered, hips jerking as Dark tightened his grip just under his crown, squeezing in a way that pulled another whine from his lips. His breathing stuttered in his chest as the temperature seemed to drop around him, cooling for just a moment, and he swallowed sharply, wondering if he'd fucked up.

"Hush, little lamb," the god continued, as if he'd sensed the little spark of fear that had gotten through the fog in his mind. A second set of fingers trailed along the curve of his neck, up to his jaw, tracing the lines he found there slowly, but firmly. "Don't worry. I find it . . . _endearing_."

Suddenly the hands were gone, and Jack was left panting on the altar, body trembling and dick twitching in the absence of those deft fingers. He whined as his hips rocked up slowly, begging, hands still fisted in his silk draperies and knuckles white with desire as he keened softly.

"P-please," he whispered, voice soft and eyes slipping closed as he concentrated on the warm, electric waves pulsing through his body.

He'd never felt like this before. So hazy, out of his mind with need and desire, his limbs shaking and body burning and all he wanted were the deity's hands all over him again. It was . . . it was _nice_. In a way that if you'd described it to him he wouldn't have expected to be nice. He'd been drunk before. He'd tried the mystical herbs and relaxation medicines from the apothecary. He'd been out of his mind on recreational substances, but none of them had been quite like this.

This . . . still felt right. He usually hated being out of his head, but this felt like some kind of euphoric frustration, some exasperated ecstasy, as his body rolled in waves of pleasure and his lips begged for more, and it was _good_. This was . . .

He _liked_ this.

Dark's hand returned to his thigh, pressing against soft muscle to spread his legs further, and Jack didn't even think about resisting. Just the return of his touch had him sucking in a needy breath, muscles tensing in anticipation as he waited for his hand to return where he wanted it so badly. He could feel himself twitch, his muscles quivering and chest heaving with each breath, toes curled around the edge of the altar as he shifted to a more comfortable, a more _ready_ , stance.

But those beautiful fingers didn't return to his shaft. Instead, there was a cool slide against his entrance, a finger slipping in before he could think, and his body clamped down tightly around the intrusion.

He made a small sound in surprise, almost a yelp, as he sat up, hand grabbing desperately at Dark's arm in confusion.

"W-wait," he whimpered, voice high as his fingers bit into the sheer cloth wrapped over the deity. He didn't pull him away, didn't fight the touch, just clung in surprise as Dark crooked his finger inside him.

"Shhhhh," the god crooned softly, lips coming forward to press briefly against the man's forehead, messy hair undoubtedly tickling his cheek. "Easy, little lamb. Let me show you."

His voice poured into his mind like warm honey, thick and sweet, dripping through him until he felt his fingers slowly loosening around the god's arm, only to tighten again as he pushed his finger deeper, twisting in a way that sent odd feelings straight down into his toes. He didn't understand this, hadn't expected it, but god, his head felt so fuzzy and warm, the pressure of Dark's other hand pressing into his thigh, the warmth of Dark's breath against his temple . . . it was all so . . . so _nice_. And that voice soothed him, bidding him not to worry, to let the _god_ take care of it, and he . . . he was obliged to listen.

He was rewarded for his patience when Dark twisted his finger just right, and some alien pleasure rushed through him like a wildfire, sending him gasping into a sharp arch.

" _Oh_ ," he breathed softly, fingers gripping against the deity's arm still, but blindly now as he stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

"There you go," Dark murmured, voice rumbling almost directly into his ear, and Jack's eyes rolled back as he curved those long fingers again, and then again, and again, starting a steady rhythm that had his toes curling, and his breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

"Oh," Jack repeated, voice decidedly wrecked as he trembled under the new sensations, struggling to breathe as his body struggled to process that _feeling_. "Oh, god. Oh- _god_ , Dark."

That was . . . that was- oh, _god_ , that was incredible. Some thick pleasure blooming deep inside him, different but oh, so welcome, and he let the stream of soft moans and pitiful whines past his lips without an ounce of reservation.

The deity made a low noise in his throat, something dark and inhumane that had Jack arching further for him, legs falling apart even as his muscles strained and twitched, eager to soak in every _bit_ of this.

But then the finger was gone, and Jack was struggling to catch his breath, staring up at the ceiling in loss and whining as he tugged at Dark's arm. He couldn't handle the teasing, the stop and start, his body already strung so tight he wanted to cry from the frustration and heady pleasure.

He sat up again, dragging his face up to look at Dark with pleading eyes, opening his mouth to beg, only to stop as he realized what the deity was doing. Another devout was on his knees before Dark, holding up a similar bowl to the first, only this one held something almost clear, just a slight murky film that shimmered as Dark slid two fingers through it. And then he was turning back towards Jack, eyes dark, and the sacrifice understood what it was for.

Jack swallowed shakily as he met the god's eyes, caught in his gaze and unable to look away as he slid slick fingers over him once more. His lips parted in anticipation, breath heavy and shallow as he watched those black eyes stare him down, the god's lips curling up in a smile before he breached him again, and Jack's mouth fell open in a silent moan.

That sensation was so . . . alien. So unknown and strange, uncomfortable as Dark stretched him out, but burning with a pleasure he had no name for, that made his hips jerk and pulled whimpers from his throat as Dark worked him over. There was a shame in him still, somewhere, burning hot and painful as Dark broke their eye contact to look down, and Jack was free to glance back at that devout still kneeling just there. Jack was laid out and exposed, Dark's fingers fucking him open at just the perfect level for the man to see. And the people behind them, if some had been sneaking peaks before, they were doubtlessly doing so now, and none of this would have sounded appealing if he'd been told yesterday that this was what today would entail.

But it was . . . it was good, it was good in a way he couldn't describe, his body pulsing, tightening with each thrum of those fingers inside him, and he didn't bother to stop the way his body started to meet each thrust. His eyes slid shut again, mouth open and panting as he threw his head back and rocked his hips slowly, moans and whines and pleas slipping between his lips as the deity bore down on him.

Jewlry tinkled and clacked over his body, his hands long since abandoning the silk wrapped over him to pool next to one hip. He could still smell the pretty oils they'd doused him in, but it was mixed with a musk now, a thick scent that had him struggling to think straight, along with everything else, as he arched his back again, shaft leaking liberally out onto his belly.

"Dark," he begged again, voice hoarse and shaking badly as he rocked his hips, releasing the god's arm to grip desperately at the cushions beneath him instead. "Oh, Dark, oh please, please, my god, _oh_ . . . _god_."

He hadn't touched him beyond this, beyond the way he was stroking that place inside him, the deity's other hand still pressing into his thigh instead, and Jack just needed more, just a little more. His was hanging over a precipice into some nameless ecstasy, just on the edge, and there was a fear in that drop, but not enough to stop him from reaching up to wrap his fingers around his aching base.

He didn't even need to stroke. Just the pressure, the relief of sensation on his swollen shaft had him tumbling over the edge with a shout, body arching sharply off of the pillow-strewn altar as he came thick ribbons over his stomach and chest. His eyes had rolled back, squeezing shut with the force of his orgasm, and his legs shook sharply even as he rode through his high, as Dark's fingers continued to stroke inside him.

He collapsed into a breathless heap, soft sobs racking his body as his fingers tightened around his cock, squeezing the last of his release onto his belly. He'd made a mess, more of a mess than he'd ever remembered making before, his chest practically dripping, and he could feel himself twitching and quivering around the fingers still buried deep inside him.

A moment of silence passed. And then another. And another. And with each new one slipping by, Jack was becoming more aware of his surroundings. Of the utter silence in the room, save his heavy breathing, and the bite of fingers in his thigh, even as others sat still inside him.

An unease pooled in his gut, building slowly over the remnants of his rampant arousal. His head wasn't quite clearing, that fog still lying thick over his thoughts, but he was granted a temporary reprieve from the all-consuming _need_ that had driven him to behave like an animal before the god.

He swallowed, again, and again, trying to will himself to open his eyes and look up at the deity still looming over him. The silence frightened him, an expectation in the air that he didn't understand, and his lips quivered as he waited for whatever the room was waiting for.

"What a _willfull_ sacrifice they've brought me," Dark rumbled after a moment, and Jack shivered at the sound of his voice, cock twitching despite how done it should be right now. "First demanding of his god, and then touching what isn't is."

Jack swallowed sharply, lips parting on a heavy breath as he struggled to answer the words that put a twist in his gut.

"I . . . I'm-"

"Sorry?" the deity prompted, and there was a smile in his voice, one that made the man tremble, parting blue eyes finally to look up at him.

God, he was a sight. Looming and dark and alien, lines of thick muscle he didn't need curving over his bare shoulders through the sheer material of that wrap, leading down to the perfect "v" of his hips slipping into the loose belt about his waist. His hair was wild, but soft, falling gently over one eye and leaving the other black orb to watch Jack with an intensity that put that fire back in his gut, and that _smile_ , crooked and wicked, took his breath away.

"Sorry you touched my things without permission?" Dark prompted again, and Jack shivered, swallowing before he nodded. His things. His body was "his things." He belonged to this deity now, his city selling him over to pay for their debts, and the weight of that was slowly settling over him.

He belonged to this god now. Whatever he wanted to do to him, he could. Whatever pleased him to do, he would. Jack was no longer his own being, but property of the gods.

So why wasn't he more afraid?

"I'm sorry," he murmured softly, genuine behind pleading eyes, and Dark's expression softened just barely around the edges, smiling almost fondly at the man laid out beneath him.

"I know, little lamb," he crooned, fingers leaving the marks they'd pressed into his thigh to curve under his jaw instead, thumb brushing over the short whiskers on his chin. "Don't worry. You'll learn."

Jack shivered at the words, the implication - that he would have _time_ to learn, that he would be here long enough to _need_ to learn - and he might have lingered on that thought longer id Dark hadn't twisted the fingers still inside him once one.

Jack made a broken noise of surprise, something caught between a yelp and a moan, his hand going back to its familiar place on the deity's heavy arm as he trembled. Dark's fingers were still wrapped around his jaw, holding him still, holding him captive as those endless black eyes stared him down, and he could do nothing but bite his lip in desperation as Dark stroked him slowly.

"Now Jack," he purred, and _god_ , hearing this being saying his name _wrecked_ him, that impossible voice forming around the simplicity of his mere mortal name. The god's focus was on him completely, intense and demanding as he watched him, and Jack could feel his face burning as he squirmed on his perch, wishing he could escape those burning eyes even as his cock gave another excited twitch.

The deity stroked his thumb over Jack's chin once more, and his eyes darted to the man's lips, heavy lashes shading over heavy eyes, before they came up to meet his once more.

"You're not going to touch what's not yours again, are you?" Dark asked, that ghost of a smile on his lips, as he slowly shook his head, and Jack found himself mimicking the motion mutely, blue eyes wide and hazy. "Not without permission."

"Not without permission," Jack whispered back, voice broken even in a whisper, and it fell into a whimper as Dark rewarded him with another stroke, deep inside him, that had his toes curling in ragged pleasure.

"Good boy," he rumbled, and Jack bit back a sob as Dark's fingers started up their previous brutal pace.

His teeth dug sharply into his lip, biting back the strangled cries and broken moans his throat tried to make as the tension in his body started to build again. That was a lot. That was a lot, that was more than he was sure he could take, but his body seemed eager to try, legs trembling even as his breaths came shorter once more. Dark didn't release him this time, hand instead sliding from his jaw to the back of his neck as he held him there, forcing him to look him in the eye as he fucked him on his fingers.

"I-" Jack started, struggling to speak as the deity changed his pace, lower and deeper, and shooting a thick pleasure all the way to his toes. "Please, I . . . _god_ , it's . . . it's so m-much . . ."

"You can do it," Dark told him patiently, thumb stroking reassuringly behind his ear, his face tilting as those impossible eyes watched him. "Can't you, Jack?"

"I . . ." he tried again, breath coming faster as his back arched. That fog was still laying thick in his mind, thickening once more around the building waves of pleasure burning through him, making it so hard to think, to _exist_ outside of this all-consuming need, and his fingers would have bitten sharp bruises into the arm of any mortal with the way he gripped the deity. "I . . ."

Dark leaned forward, and for a moment, Jack thought he was going to kiss him, steal what little breath he'd managed to hold onto straight from his chest, before he was leaning down and dragging his lips over his throat.

"Tell me, Jack."

He spoke directly into his throat, that thunder peal voice echoing through his body so richly he could almost _taste_ it on his tongue. Electricity chased the sound through him, stealing his breath anyway, and that fogged cleared enough for him to be aware of where he was, leaning back over a lavish altar, wrapped in finery and quivering around a god's fingers as he bore over him like some great wave about to consume him.

And he liked it. He liked it more than anything he'd experienced in this paltry existence.

"I can," he gasped, back arching sharply as those fingers found the perfect angle and sent stars across his vision. "Oh god, I can, I . . . can, Dark, my god, I- _god_ , please-"

"Shhhhh," the deity rumbled against his throat, and Jack trailed off into a whine, turning his head to the side as he gasped. His fingers had crawled up that arm, gripping at broad shoulders instead, and he kneaded at that warm skin as Dark moved down to mouth at his clavicle instead. "I know you can."

Dark's lips were soft, but greedy, nipping across his flesh like he wanted to taste every dish in the feast before him. He moved slowly over his chest, licking over the jut of bone under lean muscle as his fingers started to spread more with every thrust, adding a burn to the pleasure that had Jack sobbing. Dark's mouth made a path of fire and ice over his skin, fire from his hot breath and lips and tongue and cold coming to claim it as soon as he'd moved on to the next bit of flesh, and slick when he ran his lips through lines of his spent seed and Jack was so _lost_ in the sensation.

He didn't even realize he'd buried his hands in the deity's hair, taking a long moment to recognize the silky texture between his fingers. And he only had a moment to marvel in it, to wonder at the fact that he was tugging a _god's_ hair as that heavenly mouth and wicked fingers drove him mad, before he felt the whisper of breath over his once more aching shaft.

"Oh," Jack gasped, voice high and needy, and a needy moan broke over the sound as Dark's lips met the underside of his cock. They were warm, and soft, and, god, so sinful as they slid slowly over him, and Jack didn't know what sounds his own lips were making as he arched off the pillows, chest heaving and eyes rolled back as he took in the sensation of the god breathing against his shaft.

He was slow, and steady, lips moving over each inch of heated skin carefully, until he reached the little space under his crown. He closed his mouth over the thick line under his shaft, tongue dipping out to add to the slick slide, before he was sliding over that little place, over and over again as his fingers stroked inside him.

Jack keened, voice high, almost wailing now as he tried to stop the way his hips wanted to thrust up into that mouth. There was a fear in him of doing something wrong, a gratitude at this being granting him this sensation that none but the most select few would ever experience, and above all, an all-consuming _need_ for more.

" _Please_ ," he sobbed, fingers tightening sharply in that messy hair before he forced them slack again, not wanting to anger him, but needing more, more, _please_.

Dark hummed against him, sending a rush of pleasure like a punch to his gut through him, before he was turning to run the flat of his tongue over his weeping slit, and Jack couldn't stop the aborted little thrusts now.

"Yes," he breathed, broken and hoarse. "Yes, yes, please, Dark, please, I need . . . you, please."

His lips latched around the underside of his cock once more, applying suction this time, tongue flickering over that sensitive swelling line as he moved slowly up and down his length, and Jack was back on that precipice again, hovering over that ocean of pleasure he so desperately wanted to fall into.

" _Dark_ ," he whispered, incapable of raising his voice above that weak warning, before he felt the deity's lips moving against him, carving over a single syllable, rich and rumbling and otherworldly as it said _his name_ with just the slightest touch of wicked amusement.

" _Jack_."

And Jack was lost. His back arched so sharply over the altar that it almost _hurt_ , body rippling around thick fingers in a painful kind ecstasy, before he was spilling over his already painted chest, adding new strokes to the masterpiece Dark had made of his body. Those fingers inside him didn't stop, stroking him through it even as he mouthed over that spot just belong his crown, undoubtedly tasting him as he made a mess out of himself once more.

Jack's eyes opened in a hazy wonder as the pleasure crashed over him, staring at the upside-down room around him as he arched sharply over the altar. The devout were still there, silent and bowed as their sacrifice fell apart under their god, and Jack's breath caught pitifully as he caught the eyes of a young man, hardly his own age, watching him with wide eyes and pretty parted lips.

It could have been him up here. Their places could have so easily been switched, the soft-cheeked, sandy-haired boy breaking over this altar instead of him, Jack free to go home at the end of the day, his normal, quiet life uninterrupted in the wake of the grand happenings of his city.

But as his muscles started to relax, as his body started to slip limp under Dark's touch and the pleasure turned from violent ecstasy to warm, engulfing bliss, he realized . . .

He still wasn't afraid.

"What a beautiful gift your city has given me," Dark murmured against his hip, pulling one last shiver from Jack as he kissed the dip there softly. "So lovely."

"Thank you," Jack whispered back, voice barely recognizable as he struggled to get his breathing under control amidst his new exhaustion.

Dark hummed against his skin, fingers brushing along his white-streaked stomach slowly, before he leaned away, slipping his fingers from him to grip his still-trembling thigh and looking over him with appraising eyes.

He was silent for a long time, Jack struggling to remember his own name as he lay staring up at the ceiling in blissful wonder.

He didn't flinch away when he felt strong arms slipping beneath him, hooking under his spread legs and beneath his limp shoulders to lift him easily from the altar and press him against the god's chest. Jack made a noise, soft and wondering as he felt the jewelry shifting over him, clinking softly as his tinked against the fine belt around Dark's waist, and the heat from the body against him washed over him.

"Thank you, People of Casus." Dark's voice boomed too far in the massive room, louder than his casual tone should have been able to reach, and reverberating off the thick onyx walls. "Your sacrifice has been accepted."

And then there was the soft sound of Dark's footsteps on the stone floor, stepping back to that stone dias, before the world slipped into warm, inky blackness around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there's another chapter, and yes, it will contain more smut, and yes, I am the biggest fucking tease.


	2. they love it more when it's broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, I finally finished this.

Jack wasn't aware of falling asleep. There was just the sensation of warmth, clinging inky blackness around him, and then he was waking alone in an unfamiliar room. There were cushions under him, thick fabrics weaved through them as if to keep them together, and the spread of plushness reached out wide into a lavish, high-ceilinged room. A massive archway on one wall opened out into the city night behind him, and the other walls were lined with shelves of books and trinkets and oddities he had no name for.

The room around him was quiet and warm, furnished for comfort as well as splendor, and Jack found himself strangely comfortable in this unfamiliar place as he sat up and stretched forward over his knees. His back ached, the muscles in his thighs and upper arms too, and his fingers felt creaky, like he'd overused them, but otherwise he felt . . . oddly good.

His eyes traced their way slowly around the room, his sleepy brain content to take in his surroundings without truly categorizing them for now. There was a gentle breeze coming in through the archway, ruffling his hair against his nape and bringing the scent of something warm and baked. Bread maybe? It must be early rather than late for the kitchens to be at work already, and he found himself idly tracing the dark sky, looking for the first hints of sunrise.

How long had he been asleep then? The last he'd seen the sky, it'd been early morning, but he knew that had long passed by the time they'd finished preparing him for . . .

A light shiver ran over his skin as flickering memories surfaced in his mind. The alter, the scents and oils, the sensation of sheer fabric between his fingers. Heady drink heavy on his tongue and the devout watching as their god took his offering.

Something throbbed deep within him, and Jack swallowed slowly as he tried to process that. Yesterday felt like . . . well, like a fever dream. Bits and pieces of memories that were so far removed from everything he knew that they just didn't feel real. The reality of meeting the Dark God. The knowledge that he was never going home. How it had _felt_ , god.

Jack took a ragged breath, fingers coming up to push against his lips. So this was . . . this was his life now. Whatever this was. He wasn't dead. Which was . . . nice. But beyond that, he was unsure of his status. No one talked about what happened to the sacrifices. He was pretty sure most people didn't know, but the priests hadn't even given him any idea of what was going to become of him. Was he just going to be kept in a room for the god's whims? Used until it was time for the next sacrifice and then thrown out? Or was he still planning to eat him, or kill him, or whatever a god might choose to do with a mere mortal?

There was a single moment, a brief flash where Jack wanted to run. Sneak out of this comfortable room and run away into the night, make some new life somewhere else. There wasn't anyone guarding him, and he was quick. He could probably make it if he tried. Maybe. But the urge passed before he'd even had a chance to consider acting on it. There wasn't really any point in running from a god, was there? It wasn't like he could escape him. They were all-seeing and all-knowing and all-powerful and everything else the priests had ever taught him - which was admittedly little, as unconcerned with deities as he'd been. But he doubted he'd get very far if he ran.

It surprised him how . . . un-depressing that thought was. It should have made him feel trapped or scared, but instead he just felt accepting. If this was what it was, this was what it was. He wasn't dead yet. And what had happened yesterday wasn't . . . unfavorable.

His stomach grumbled unhappily, and Jack scrubbed at his eyes for a moment before struggling out of his lavish bed, crawling to his feet to find a table some ways away with a plate of fruit on it. He grabbed a plum, recognizing the dark skin amongst some unfamiliar shapes, and bit into it as he turned and started making his way slowly around the room. The shelves closest to him here were lined with intricate sculptures, and delicate devices he had no name for, glinting in the soft candlelight of the room. He didn't touch anything, wary of fragile things and his now-sticky hands, and instead made a slow circuit around, just looking, until he found himself standing at the edge of the archway.

His stomach lurched harshly as he realized just how high the room was, one of his hands whipping out to snatch the nearest shelf in a death grip. He had to be in the Dark Temple still, to be this high. The entire city seemed to stretch out before him, heavy stone sitting silent in the night, only the major roads lit with torches that looked hardly more than candles at this distance. There was no railing or balcony, just a hole in the side of the wall, and courtyard so far below him that the world seemed to tilt into something unreal as he looked at it.

It was only as he glanced back behind him, eyes skimming the large room, that he realized there was no other doorway here. Just endless shelves, and the hole into the sky.

Well. A prettier prison than most, he supposed.

He stepped away from the archway almost reluctantly, some alien pull tugging at him like the call of the void, beckoning him back to the edge. His plum bled over his fingers as he took another bite, and he forced himself to swallow around the tightness of his throat as he went back to examining the shelves.

He spent what may well have been hours browsing the endless shelves. There was a ladder on one side that led up into a balcony of sorts that wrapped around the entire room, a second level built on top of the first level's shelves, and held even more novelties for him to admire, until he lost all sense of time. His plate of fruit never seemed to diminish, no matter how often he came back to it, and pitchers of water and wine both sat on the same table, cool whenever he wanted them.

It was . . . nice.

The first streaks of soft pink were crawling across the sky when he caught sight of the shape streaking along the clouds. Massive and inky black, an absolute void of light as it shot over the city in a high, graceful arch. It was only when it was almost upon him, its destination clear, that it slowed enough for Jack to make some sense of the shape, great black wings without definition, a jagged center holding them together that looked more like a harsh brushstroke than the outline of any man or animal. It struck the floor just inside the archway soundlessly, pooling for a moment in a shapeless force, before it arched and bled into a recognizable shape.

Jack's breath caught as he watched Dark step into the candlelight, black eyes sweeping slowly across the room as the breeze tugged at his sheer clothes. His skin was the same marble smoothness he'd remembered, even in the forgiving candle glow, and there was that _alienness_ to him that he still couldn't put to words. It was so painfully obvious that this thing was something Other, something dangerous and unknown, something that could crush the realms of men on whims and was so beyond Jack's ken as to be laughable.

And yet, when the god's eyes lingered on him for a moment, the thrill he felt running up his spine wasn't fear.

Dark didn't say anything, his gaze continuing across the room, like he was taking everything in the way Jack had, and Jack swallowed as he set the pretty red-fleshed fruit he'd been picking at back onto the platter. He wasn't sure if there was some . . . etiquette here. If he was supposed to talk or be silent. If he should fall to his knees or, or, bow his head or something. Maybe he was supposed to act a servent, fetch him a glass of wine. But the deity seemed unconcerned with him, his expression mild, if foreign, as he took a step forward to touch a beautiful deer sculpture on the near wall that Jack had spent some time fawning over, and Jack found what little tension had been settling in between his shoulders loosening as he glanced back out at the morning sky.

"Can you really turn into a great black wolf?" Jack asked without thinking. He couldn't shake the sight of the winged shape, his memory supplying the old tales of the Dark God riding the winds as some great raptor, and the other things they said he could be.

Dark's eyes slid back to him, unreadable and strange, but his head tilted ever so slightly in a gesture he could almost recognize.

"That interests you," he said, not as a question, and Jack was struck again with the quality of his voice, like heavy thunder.

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

Dark's eyes drifted lower for a moment before he turned back to the shelves, tracing patterns Jack didn't understand across a line of books.

"Can you turn into anything else?" Jack asked, taking a step forward. Not to be closer, but to see him better. Dark didn't turn to look at him this time.

"I can be as I wish."

"Anything you want?" There was a note of excitement in his voice at the idea.

"Here, yes."

"Here, like, in the city? Or here as in-"

Jack cut off on a sharp intake of breath as Dark took a step, only to streak across the room the same way he had across the sky, a smear of black arching through the air before it formed back into the god's shape at the opposite wall. He didn't look back, his movements languid and unhurried as he reached up to brush his fingertips across an instrument Jack had been unable to decipher the use of.

There was a long moment of silence before Dark turned to look back at him, expression unchanged and just as foreign as before, but lacking any discernable signs of irritation at least.

Jack took an unsteady breath.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he admitted, pausing to lick his lips before reaching up to adjust the pretty fabric of the sheer outfit he still wore from the day before. The belt tinkled lightly as the heavy gold links clinked together. "I'm not trying to do something wrong, I just don't know . . . what to do."

Jack looked down at his bare feet as he finished lamely, noting how perfectly shaped each of his toenails still were. When he looked up, Dark was hardly a step away from him, those inscrutable eyes watching him closely as he reached out to run a warm finger up the side of his throat.

"You're here for me to admire," Dark rumbled, and Jack swore he could feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest, despite how low he'd spoken. "There's little to get wrong."

Jack swallowed, Dark's finger jumping over his Adam's apple and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. "But what do you want me to _do?_ Am I supposed to feed you? Or get on my knees? Or, just, I'm supposed to serve you, aren't I?"

"I don't need you to serve me. I need you only to exist in my grasp." As he said the words, his fingers curled up to grip lightly at his jaw, holding him in place as he tilted his face slightly up, as if he was examining him, and Jack shivered at the memories that dragged up.

"I-" Jack started, but then Dark forced his head to tilt farther, baring his neck, and Jack's tongue struggled to make the right sounds. He was sure his pulse was jumping against his throat, easy to see now, and he had to swallow to make his tongue behave long enough to ask, "Why?"

Dark was silent long enough that Jack was sure he wasn't going to answer, his body thrumming but pliant beneath the deity's hands, and he was ready to accept that this was just the way things were. But then Dark's other hand pressed hotly along his spine, curving him back slightly as he towered over him, and his words were rumbled somewhere near Jack's jaw.

"Why do you like to rest in the sun?"

Jack blinked up at the ceiling, trying to collect his thoughts as heated fingers pressed up the line of his spine. "S'warm," he managed finally.

"And if heat meant nothing to me, how would you explain why you liked it?"

"I . . . don't know. It's just nice."

"Mm," Dark agreed, before leaning forward to nip at his throat. Jack made a soft noise, hands jerking up weakly as if to grab onto the being for support, only to hesitate.

"Am I . . . allowed to touch you?"

"Haven't you already?" Dark asked, and Jack could feel the edges of his smile against his throat. That wasn't really an answer, but Jack chose to take it as one, reaching up to grip loosely at the slim, ornate belt slung about the deity's hips.

"So you're not going to . . . eat me, I guess," Jack managed between soft breaths as Dark mapped out the length of his throat with his lips.

"I have every intention of consuming you," Dark purred, and there was recognizable humor in his voice. "But not in the way you fear, no."

"Ah. Good. That's- good."

Dark made a low noise that seemed to pool right in Jack's gut, and it took him a moment to realize it was laughter.

"I am going to enjoy you," Dark told him, and there was some black warmth in his voice, the hand at his back pressing out to smooth up his side, over his ribs under the sheer fabric. Jack closed his eyes, a soft moan slipping past his lips as Dark's hand pressed down against the jut of his hip, and he became increasingly aware of how appreciative his body was of the attention.

"Now?" he asked in an unsteady voice, a twist of apprehension and excitement rushing through him. Dark laughed again.

"Yes," he rumbled simply. And then that sticky black warmth was pressing in all around them again, crawling greedily across Jack's skin, blocking out everything except the feel of Dark's fingers against him and the belt in his hands, before it ripped away, and they were no longer in the high room.

Instead, they were in a bath, stone walls and heavy slate floors leading down to the massive pool in the center. Steam curled softly from the dark water and the scent of oils hung thick in the air, giving the room a relaxing, almost sleepy feeling.

Jack wasn't particularly relaxed by the sight of the two priests kneeling patiently to one side of the pool, heads bent, the scene hauntingly familiar to when he'd first been taken as a sacrifice. He faltered slightly, stepping back only to find Dark behind him, hands wrapping loosely around his arms as he stopped Jack's retreat.

"They will prepare you," Dark murmured simply. And then he was gone, warmth disappearing with him, and Jack was left alone with the priests.

It wasn't as intensive as it had been the first time. There was no violent scrubbing, no ripping his skin raw or soaking in the milky bath. There were oils still, and they took the blade set to his skin again, removing the little bits of stubble that had started to grow back.

He was ready for the more invasive cleaning this time, closing his eyes and clinging to the side of the tub instead as fingers were worked into him, and his body was cleaned from the inside out. It was still such an alien sensation, not quite the same as when the god had reached inside him, but not quite so frightening now. The priests never spoke, doing their work in silence, but when Jack had shivered at the first breach, he'd felt a steadying hand pressed into his back, offering a quiet support that Jack had taken with shame.

When they were finished, a bowl was set on the floor next to the bath, one of the priests filling it from a small jar, and Jack swallowed as he recognized the milky liquid pooling inside. The liquid Dark had had him drink the first time. The one he had only later realized had driven him out of his mind.

Jack swallowed and looked up at the priests, but neither looked at him, simply collecting the rest of their supplies and leaving without a word.

Jack sat back in the bath with a moment of uncertainty. He wasn't sure what was expected of him now. He hadn't been dressed this time, and he wasn't sure if leaving the bowl there meant he was to drink now, or wait until Dark fed it to him. He assumed he wasn't supposed to leave, at least. There was no way back to his room with the god's help, and he had no where else to go.

After a moment, Jack simply sighed and sank back into the water, letting it crest all the way up his throat. There were oils hanging in the water, and he could feel them clinging to his skin, the smell thick but not unpleasantly so, and the water was deliciously warm, easing the tension from his muscles. It was nice to just _sit_ , closing his eyes and enjoying it.

His legs brushed against each other in the water, the sensation strange without body hair, and he shivered as they slipped against each other. The oils seemed to cling eagerly to his skin, even in the water, and he bit his lip as he pressed his thighs together just to feel the slide.

His body had lost the bit of interest it had had from Dark's touch once he'd been left with the priests, but he could feel it starting to thrum in his gut again now. His mind was a mess of foggy memories, and his skin was sensitive now, lighting up at the slightest touch. Floating lazily in the water like this, warm and clean and comfortable, he found his hands traveling easily, tracing smooth skin across his chest, down his stomach, his thighs. He ran his fingers over his balls, so painfully soft without hair, and sighed at the sensation, cock filling slowly against his stomach.

It didn't take more than a few minutes before he was letting his fingers trail lower, behind his balls, to press against the skin there in a way that made his breath hitch. And then lower still, tracing the sensitive skin around his entrance, and letting out a low breath as he pressed a finger carefully against it.

It was so easy to slip inside now, after the priests had done their work. His body felt soft and yielding, giving way to his finger, and he pressed tentatively inside, staring up at the ceiling and biting his lip as he tried to understand.

What Dark had done before was so far outside of anything he knew. But he _wanted_ to know. It was hard to remember exactly what he'd done, the memories so hazy even though they were only hours past, but he thought he knew the basics at least, and his body seemed forgiving of his clumsy attempts.

He pressed slowly, feeling around carefully, taking stock of the sensation. It wasn't the blinding pleasure Dark had found inside him but it wasn't . . . unpleasant. He hummed to himself, pressing deeper, twisting at different angles, rocking in and out, and his eyes slipped close as he focused on the feeling.

He had two fingers inside himself, up to the second knuckle, panting softly, when he opened his eyes to find Dark standing over him.

He didn't jump, though his breath jerked in sharply as he stared up at the deity. Those black eyes were low, watching him with an easy kind of intensity, and his lips pulled up in the barest ghost of a smile.

"Oh," Jack breathed, fingers still inside himself. "Hi."

The smile crooked a little higher. "Exploring, Jack?" he asked, and his voice seemed to thrum through the water around him.

"Uh," Jack started, nervous but unwilling to move or hide. "Yes. Actually."

Dark tilted his head to the side again in that gesture that Jack thought he might understand.

Jack swallowed. "That's . . . should I not?"

"So eager to touch what isn't yours," Dark mused lowly, and Jack's mouth went dry as he watched the way his black gaze flickered over him. He was struck with the thought that the deity probably didn't have the hindrances of human vision. He could likely see just fine in the dark, could see through the murky water. For all he knew, Dark could see the very place where his fingers disappeared into his body.

If nothing else, he could probably see the way Jack's cock twitched against his belly at the thought.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered, but his hand didn't move.

"Are you?" Dark asked, leaning farther, until he was hovering above Jack's face, upside down, but close enough to see individual lashes over black eyes. A single long finger reached out to trail up Jack's throat, curling over his chin and forcing his eyes up. His voice pitched lower as he asked, "Should I give you permission, little lamb?"

Jack could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his pulse jumping in his throat and his dick aching as he struggled to keep his fingers still. "Yes," he rasped.

Dark didn't answer. His smile spread brokenly over his face and he spread his hand out over Jack's throat, heel of his palm pressed under his chin and fingers splayed down towards his clavicle. Just holding him there. Watching him. Silent and amused and otherworldly.

Jack wasn't sure if that was permission, but his body was all too happy to take it as such. He pressed lightly, just enough to push a little deeper and watched for a flash of irritation in Dark's eyes that never came. Emboldened, he pulled back and pushed again, oils slicking the way even submerged like this, and his eyelids fluttered as he fell back into the sensation. It wasn't a feeling he had the proper words to describe. Not the easy rush of pleasure he was used to when he stroked himself, but something good all the same. He liked the feeling of the movement inside him, the fullness, especially after that initial burn went away. And sometimes when he twisted his fingers just right, there was a phantom sensation that hinted at something so much better, if only he knew how to reach it.

And it was even better now, here, with Dark's eyes fixed on him, watching each shallow breath press in his chest, the muscles in his arms, the tendons as he flexed to reach at the awkward angle. His wrist was sore, but it was a distant concern when Dark's gaze was tracing patterns down his stomach, his thighs, lingering on the curved line of his cock against his hip. The god's hand on his throat was an anchor, keeping him present, fixed on those eyes, even as it became easier to fall away. It was like . . . like how Jack had admired the beautiful sculptures back in the high room. Eyes roaming, drinking it in, like he was just as beautiful even in the basest of throes.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" Dark asked softly after some time, and his voice was like the first hints of a thunderstorm on summer night air. Jack shook his head, not trusting his voice as he pushed hard again, wanted to be deeper, fuller, stretched. Dark's fingers slid down the delicate skin of his throat, pressing against his collarbone, thumb swiping over his pulse. "Then perhaps I should show you."

Jack nodded quickly, water splashing softly over his ears in his enthusiasm, and he pulled his hand away, feeling achingly empty but eager as he grabbed his thigh to spread it for the god. Dark's hand pushed lower, over his chest, his ribs, dancing over his stomach. But instead of reaching further, he twisted to sling an arm around his side and lifted him from the water as effortlessly as a mother might a babe.

Jack gasped, hands whipping out to snatch at Dark's robes as the cool air of the room kissed him, slate cold and hard against his bare feet, and he only had a moment to try to orient himself before that sticky blackness was coiling around them again, and Dark transported them back to the high room.

Jack stumbled back, shivering slightly as cool water dripped down his back from his wet hair, and he suddenly painfully aware that he was standing naked in the plush room, only a few steps shy of the archway looking out over the city.

"Oh," Jack breathed, stepping back farther, away from the opening, only to stop as Dark pressed against his back, holding him there.

"Where are you going, Jack?" Dark asked into his ear, warm breath washing over his cooling skin.

"They- they can see."

"Maybe I want them to see."

Jack shuddered at that, closing his eyes as he leaned back to press his head into Dark's shoulder. Dark's fingers reached out to curl over Jack's hips, stroking slowly over the sensitive skin, and Jack made a soft noise in response.

"Maybe," Dark continued, low, just for Jack's ears. "I want to show off my prize. _Maybe_ I want the whole of Casus to know how much their god _appreciates_ their gift."

One hand left his hips, and Jack blinked out at the morning sky, swallowing down the broken sound of shame and arousal as he wondered how many people looked up at the temple every day. Were people looking right now? Could they see from this distance? Or perhaps there were some that knew what this room was for, that checked it whenever the Dark God received a new sacrifice. Maybe they had far-seeing lenses, and they could see the drops of water dripping down his bare chest, or the shape of his aching shaft, interested even now.

"Drink," Dark said, and Jack looked down in surprise to find a gray hand offering him the bowl of milky liquid from back in the bath. He swallowed, his gut twisting sharply as he eyed the offering, and his mind raced for a moment.

"Is it . . . necessary?" he asked after a long pause, and he felt Dark shift behind him, turning to look at him better. Jack didn't look back.

"Most prefer its oblivion," Dark answered after a long moment, his voice sounding contemplative.

"I don't think I'm . . . most," Jack breathed, and Dark laughed, low and soft and deep in his chest.

"No, you're not," he answered easily, the bowl disappearing and Dark bringing his hand back to press the wet hair away from Jack's eyes. "Come then."

Dark pulled him away from the archway, leading him back to the bed of cushions he'd woken up on. "Kneel," he commanded, and Jack did without hesitation.

Dark's hand pressed against his spine, between his shoulder blades, urging him forward until he fell to his hands and knees, and he was painfully aware once more how bare he was.

Dark settled behind him, and Jack risked a glance back, taking in the sight of the god on his knees in the plush beddings, hair falling softly over his face as his hands traced over Jack's back, following the length of his spine and the curve of his hips.

"Give me your hand," Dark rumbled, and Jack turned his face away, balancing on one hand as he reached the other behind him, over his back. Dark took it, his hand so blissfully warm, before he was twisting it away, pushing it under Jack to pass between his legs instead. "Like this."

And then Dark was stroking over two of his fingers with a slick hand, and Jack's breath hitched, wondering where he'd gotten the slickness, and wondering more what he planned to do with it.

"Press them inside," Dark urged, guiding Jack's newly slicked fingers back to his entrance, and Jack swallowed loudly as he did as he bid, his body still giving so easily to the intrusion.

His breath hitched sharply as he felt one of Dark's fingers join them, and that was more than he'd had before, thicker and yet still his body yielded, opening for the god as he pressed in deep, stroking over the backs of Jack's fingers.

"Press," he urged again, and then he was pressing down on Jack's fingers, pushing them down to press against something inside him, and Jack's thighs jerked sharply as a sharp pleasure shot through him.

" _Oh,_ " he gasped, but it was all he could manage before Dark was pressing again, forcing his fingers to stroke over that spot again and again, and Jack's free hand was digging sharply into the cushions beneath him as he struggled to stay upright. "Oh, god, oh- that's- _god_ , Dark, _oh_."

He moaned low and loud as Dark changed the angle, stroking it harder just on the edge, a deeper but less intense feeling, and Jack was momentarily lost to the sensation, his eyes rolling back and mouth falling open as the easy pleasure rolled through him.

It was several long moments before Jack realized Dark had pulled away, and it was just Jack stroking at that place inside him, gasping as he twisted and pressed and discovered a whole new plethora of sensations inside him. Jack let out a shaky sigh, but didn't stop, closing his eyes as he imagined what Dark must be watching behind him. This, this was all he needed. Not the drink or the oils or the finery. Just this, Dark watching as he took himself apart from the inside.

By the time Dark's hand returned, Jack was leaking onto the floor, his cock not as painfully hard as it could be, but wetter than he ever remembered it being. Dark's fingers stroked along his spine, following it down to trace between his cheeks, before he was slipping a finger inside him again, alongside his own, and Jack gave him control again without hesitation. Dark guided him for a moment, stroking slow and easy, before adding another, and that was a lot, _god_. Four fingers inside him, stretching him out, and Jack's moan was low and heady.

Jack was unsure how long they stayed like that, thrusting into him together, before Dark pulled back, tugging Jack's hand along with him. There was shifting behind him, the sound of fabric slipping along skin, and there was a searing heat pressing along his slippery crack, and Jack sucked in a breath.

That felt . . . a lot bigger than fingers. Hotter and wetter too, leaving a slick trail behind it as he rocked slowly against his body. Jack whimpered, arching his back down and spreading his knees to accommodate its size, breathing catching each time the blunt head caught around his rim. It was big. It was definitely big. It was a lot more than he'd done before, and his heart struck a staccato rhythm in his chest as he rocked slowly back into the motion.

And then Dark pressed, and it _was_ bigger, much bigger, too big, too much, _too much_ , and Jack was gasping desperately as a hand on his shoulder held him still.

"I can't," he gasped suddenly, the words flying from his lips unbidden as he pushed against the god's grip, a fluttering almost-panic clawing at his chest. "I can't, Dark, I _can't_ -"

"You can," Dark answered easily, and then he was inside him, Jack's body yielding to him, and the intensity overwhelmed him beyond words or breath or even sight for a moment. Everything in him went rigid, and then slack, giving up, giving _in_ , and the god made some deep, impossible sound, and pressed deeper. "That's it, Jack."

Jack keened, high and broken, as Dark bottomed out, pressing so deep inside him Jack was sure he should be able to feel it through his stomach. He shifted his weight to one hand, the other reaching up to press against his gut, searching for the shape of Dark's cock inside him. But then Dark rocked forward, and Jack lost his balance, tumbling forward into the cushions, face down, ass up, and he didn't bother trying to fix it, just clung to the cushions and fabric and gasped broken sounds into the bedding as Dark fucked him.

It wasn't like the fingers. They'd been bony and rough, and not nearly so deep. This was smooth, and thick, and so _filling_ , touching places deep inside him he didn't even know existed. Each thrust slid against that hot place, twisting that alien pleasure through him even as his body struggled to accept the weight and size of the cock inside him. He could feel himself clenching down sporadically, drawing soft sounds from the god at his back, and the pain and fear slipping into a frightening exhilaration that made him want to cry out wordlessly on every thrust.

"Shhhhh, Jack," Dark crooned behind him, and Jack shivered as hands smoothed up his sides, one curving under him to press against his chest as the other latched onto his shoulder again, and there was some tension deep inside him that started to unspool at the grounding contact. "You need only _take_."

Jack nodded feverishly against the pillow, gasping as Dark shifted slightly, changing the angle to something that seemed to run a thick electricity up his spine and pooled in his gut. "I . . . I can- _god_ , I can take, Dark, I can, just- _hah_ , just . . . give . . . me . . ."

He wasn't really aware of the words spilling over his lips, too far gone as the sensations started to ratchet higher, his body winding up even as his mind relaxed into an easy submission, just _taking_ as his god asked. Each thrust stirred the hot electricity further in his gut, made his cock ache more, dribbling a steady stream of precum onto the cushions beneath him, and he barely registered the fact that he was about to cum before it was crashing over him with an alien intensity that blotted out the rest of the world.

Jack moaned, high and ragged, fingers digging in harshly as his back arched sharply, and every thrust seemed to drag the feeling out, drowning him in it, until his tongue was twisted and his eyes rolled back and nothing was more important than the glorious spike as Dark filled him over and over again.

He was shaking as he came back down, choked sobs falling from his lips as he sank further into the beddings. Dark's hands moved to his hips instead, holding him up as Jack fell completely limp and took whatever his god wanted to give him. The thrusts had turned softer, shallower, not pressing quite so roughly against that place inside him, and Jack sighed and moaned, only vaguely aware of his own softening shaft continuing to dribble into the mess he'd made beneath him.

"Dark," he breathed, high on the heady sensation of this, the afterglow and the warmth, the perfect fit of Dark's fingers around his hips, the ownership of the grip, the steady, yielding pleasure washing through him that should have been too much but simply wasn't. "Mmm, _Dark_. Dark . . . I . . . want . . ."

Dark arched over him, leaning so he could speak against Jack's shoulder, lips brushing sweaty skin. "To take," he supplied smoothly, and Jack moaned beneath him.

" _Yes_ ," he groaned, melting into the cushions, and he didn't move, even as Dark's fingers threaded their way through Jack's damp hair.

Dark made a sound, something approving, and then his hands were tightening, one in his hair and one on his hip, holding him in an iron grip as his thrusts returned in power. Jack made a low guttural sound, fingers clutching weakly at the bedding, but stayed limp beyond that, letting his god have him however he wanted him. That low fire was still burning in his gut, and he could feel each thrust stroking it a little higher, urging him back towards a peak he wasn't interested in searching out just now, though he was happy to know it was there. He wondered distantly just how long Dark could drag this out in the future if he wanted to, and his toes curled softly at the possibilities.

But then Dark made another noise behind him, something rougher, almost animalistic, and Jack was jerked back to the present and the surprising feeling of warmth flooding him.

Dark thrust again, still smooth and perfect, but with a tightness to it now, and Jack could feel how wet it was, how almost sloppy his body felt around him. Wet warmth trickled down his thighs, each thrust forcing more out, and Jack moaned brokenly as he arched his back again, angling his hips further up, as if he was hoping Dark could just carve out a place for it inside him and keep it there instead.

Jack was panting by the time Dark stilled, leaning over him, his soft hair brushing over the curve of his spine. His breathing was still even, but deeper, and there was some deep hum on every exhale that echoed in Jack's chest.

He wondered if gods experienced an afterglow.

Dark shifted, leaning forward farther, and Jack shuddered as he felt him shift inside him. "Such a lovely gift they've given me this time," Dark purred into his ear, and Jack laughed softly, turning towards him only to glance out over the city's morning skyline instead.

"Maybe you should fuck me in the archway next time," Jack suggested, feeling too relaxed and content to guard his tongue. "So they can see just what you think of it.

Dark laughed in turn, low in his chest, and turned to nip sharply at Jack's throat. "Careful, little lamb. Or I'll forget how paltry your endurance is next to that of a god."

Jack smiled and sighed, stretching out on his sea of cushions, and only whining a moment when Dark pulled out of him. Another trickle of heat ran down his leg, and Jack couldn't help but press his thighs together, just enjoying the slide of slick skin as Dark rose behind him.

"Are you going to be gone a lot?" Jack asked, listening to the too-soft sounds of Dark's feet as he walked across the room.

"Yes," came the easy answer, sounding neither dismissive nor regretful.

Jack hummed, letting his brain work at its own sluggish pace as he enjoyed the languid little high he was still riding.

"Can I have a pet?" he asked finally. He shuffled a bit to turn his head back to where Dark was, watching as the god turned black eyes on him in turn. Dark tilted his head to the side again, that same almost-gesture Jack had been watching all morning, and the broken smile crept up his face again.

"I'll have to find you something pretty," Dark rumbled in his thunder peal voice, and Jack grinned as he sank into the cushions, letting his knees slip out from under him.

In a minute, maybe he'd ask Dark to take him back to the bath. He was lying in a cooling wet spot, and his legs were already starting to feel tacky, but none of it seemed overly important just then. For now, he was content to just lie here, looking out across his pretty high room, admiring the dark blemish that was the god in the otherwise warm colors, and marvel at how startling okay all of this was.

He was in a gilded prison, kept like a slave for the whims of the war god, never to see his old life again. And he was happy.

Wasn't that interesting?

**Author's Note:**

> You can come bother me on [tumblr](https://poem-is-dead.tumblr.com/) if you like.


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